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teacher in half, pulling her organs out of her body as if it was some kind of carnival grab-bag .
    “ I know what you’re thinking!” she snapped. “But that’s not Ryan.” She looked away, then, “That’s not my grandbaby.”
    “ What do you think happened, then?”
    She looked down at her cigarette as if she’d forgotten it was there, tapped the ash off onto her plate, then took one long, final drag before snuffing it out. “I don’t know, but as sure as I’m sittin’ here—that boy ain’t the violent kind. He’d never hurt anyone, especially not Alma. He loved that woman.”
    “ There’s a history of substance abuse in the family. Any signs Ryan might’ve been using?” Cameron suggested.
    She looked back at him, appalled, almost as if he’d just asked her to take off her clothes. “You must be joking. Ryan hated that stuff. He saw what it did to his momma. Wouldn’t have no part of it.”
    Cameron shifted gears. “Did Ryan ever go hunting?”
    “ Hmmm. The deer thing.” She said the word as if it smelled like rotten egg. “Heard about that. Kinda figgered that was coming. Yeah, Ryan used to go with his grandfather, my husband.”
    “ He still around?”
    “ No. My Henry passed on several years ago.” Bobbi paused to think, as if taking a trip back in time, then shuttled back to the present. Her tone suddenly grew quiet. “Cancer.”
    “ I’m sorry,” Cameron said. “How long ago?”
    She let out a sigh with sound. “Seven years. It’s been seven years now.”
    “ They hunted together? Him and Ryan?”
    “ Yeah. Before my daughter lost custody. Henry used to take him out during buck season. He was about five or six. Quality time. You know?”
    Cameron nodded.
    “ Gives a young man a sense of accomplishment. Teaches him responsibility,” she said, almost as if defending her deceased husband. “Henry was good with Ryan.”
    “ So the boy knows how to prepare the animal once it’s killed?”
    “ If you’re talking about the field dressing , then yes,” she said, “Henry taught him that. Ryan was too young to actually shoot. Used to go along and help, but I’ll tell you what: my husband’s probably turning in his grave right now. He’d kick that boy’s ass from here ‘til next Tuesday if he knew …” She stopped, shaking her head in disgust.
    Cameron glanced around the room. “Did Ryan sleep in the bedroom?”
    “ No, I do … figger, why not? I pay the rent, I get the bennies, right?” She pointed at the couch where Cameron was sitting. “He slept right there. Folds open to a bed.”
    Cameron looked down at the couch, then back up at her. “Where did he keep his personal belongings?”
    “ Boy didn’t have a heck of a lot. I could barely afford to keep clothes on his back—thank you Jesus for SSI—so he lived pretty simple, but not by choice. Didn’t seem to mind it much, though.” She nodded toward a corner of the room. “Kept his clothes in that dresser over there.”
    “ Mind if I take a look?”
    “ Be my guest. Take you all of about … what … like, two seconds? Like I said, kid didn’t have much.”
    Cameron walked over to the dresser, pulled open each drawer, and looked inside but found nothing other than a few polo shirts, underwear, and socks. After closing the final drawer, he thought for a moment, then looked at her. “Any idea where he might be right now?”
    She threw her hands up. “Damned if I know.”
    Cameron nodded, deliberating for a moment. “One last thing. Did Ryan have access to a hunting knife of any sort?”
    Bobbi eyed him suspiciously. “Hunting knife?”
    “ Yeah. Alma was killed with one,” he said, a reminder, even though he knew she needed none.
    Bobbi’s eyes widened and her voice got defensive. “If he did, he sure as shit didn’t get it from me.”
    “ I wasn’t suggesting that, ma’am, just wanted to know if he had access to any. If you ever saw him with one.”
    She drew a ragged breath and thought—or at